


A 21st Century Christmas

by stonegirl77



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:21:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonegirl77/pseuds/stonegirl77
Summary: Turns out Bucky hadn't ever heard of Black Friday.(the first Christmas Bucky spent at the tower ended up being a memorable one...)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for Pharm for the Christmas fluff and Faerieofdreams for the Bucky... I hope you two enjoy!
> 
> Happy Holidays!

It started in the middle of November. 

We were on my couch, doing the weekly ‘Introduce Bucky to 21st century Media’ meeting, which basically consisted of us watching an episode of something, me explaining what didn’t make sense to Bucky, and him ending up with a dozen other movies, books, and references to look up. But we were getting somewhere. Slowly.

“What’s Black Friday?” Bucky asked, staring out my window. 

“Huh?” I’d been quickly reading the final work emails of the day so we could get started on Westworld. 

“Sorry, you’re busy,” he apologised. 

“No, no, you’re fine,” I said, closing the computer and stowing it on the coffee table. The emails weren’t that important anyway. At some point Bucky would believe he was worth listening to. I hoped. “Repeat the question?”

“What’s Black Friday?”

I groaned. “Ugh. Black Friday is - it’s a name for the day after Thanksgiving. I have no idea when it started, but someone decided that the day after Thanksgiving would be the best time to put on lots of sales, and it’s devolved into one of the biggest shopping days of the year.” 

“That… doesn’t sound so bad,” Bucky said.

“You’d think,” I replied. “But when stores open at 3am, and people have been killed and injured in stampedes trying to get into the store for the great ‘deals’. And it’s part and parcel of the monetisation of Christmas. Because what’s important about it is what presents you get.” I frowned. 

If anything, Bucky’s expression was even darker than mine. “Sometimes I wonder exactly how the world’s improved since my time.”

I gave a smile, but it wasn’t a happy one. 

“That’s not one of the things that’s improved,” I said. “But hey, at least more people are in a position to buy stuff,” I offered. Bucky gave me a half-smile of his own. 

“At least something.” He settled into the couch, then glanced over at me again. “The people aren’t bad, either.”

My stomach dropped to somewhere in the vicinity of the basement. 

I’d been doing so well. Sure, Bucky Barnes was attractive. Exceedingly so. Everyone on the Internet agreed on that. And when I’d started working with the Avengers, I’d had a very firm talk with myself. 

_No perving on any one of the superheroes,_ I’d told myself. _They’re real people, not pieces of meat. With their own personalities, their own issues. Treat them like people. Not like objects. And, well, don’t go falling for any of them. They’re your friends and co-workers. Nothing more._

It had stuck, mostly, as I’d met Tony Stark, and Captain America. I liked Bruce Banner, and I was in awe of Black Widow and Hawkeye. And then I’d met Bucky. 

He’d tagged along to the weekly briefing a few months ago, sticking close to Steve’s side and snagging the most defensible seat. Which had been mine. I’d taken one look at him, watching everyone warily, at Steve, who had actual bags under his eyes, and stood instead, making a mental note to get another chair for the next meeting. 

Of course, at the next meeting, Bucky had apologised for taking my seat. I’d shrugged it off, but hadn’t been able to quite forget how my breath had caught when he’d looked down at me, fixing me with his full attention. But I remembered my promise to myself, and buried the attraction. 

And then we started to spend more time together. Going over his time in HYDRA, mining whatever intelligence we could, first with Steve there, then without as Bucky found and mostly eliminated his triggers. The movie nights started by accident, when I’d started laughing with Steve over a Princess Bride quote. Bucky’d looked completely confused, and I’d offered to try and catch him up on pop culture without thinking about it. 

And, every now and again, he’d say things like _that_ and I’d forget all about my promise to myself. 

_The people aren’t bad either._

_Come on, girl. It doesn’t mean anything. You know that._

I realised I was staring at him, and reached forward with a start, grabbing for the remote. 

“So. Westworld.”

….

The next time was on December 6, when I showed up to the Tower with cookies. 

“What’s all this?” Stark asked, probably drawn in by the smells of butter, sugar, and spice.

“Christmas cookies.” I started to unload, unpacking the tins of cookies and opening them, setting them on the counter for people to try. “Perks of being German at Christmas - we’ve still got all the old recipes.”

“I knew I liked you,” Stark grinned at me, snagging a cookie and biting into it. He moaned. “Damn, these are good - wanna marry me?”

“I don’t think Pepper would like that,” I said with a grin, pulling out the foil-wrapped stollen. 

“What won’t Pepper like?” Steve asked, stepping out of the elevator. “Oh - are those cookies?”

“Help yourself, Cap,” I said, unwrapping the stollen and looking around for a cutting board or plate to put it on. “Let me know which ones you like - I can always make more.”

Steve looked nonplussed for a second, then grinned, taking a few different cookies and moving over so Bruce and Sam could inspect the haul. 

“Morning,” Bucky was next to me. 

“Morning,” I said, catching sight of a lovely walnut cutting board and pulling it over. “Want a cookie?”

“You - made this?”

“Yeah?” He sounded a bit disbelieving for my taste, and I did my best to not get my feathers ruffled. “Family recipes.”

“This - Ma used to make cookies for Christmas,” he said softly. I put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Tell you what,” I said, just as softly - this was a conversation I wasn’t sure he wanted the others to overhear. “If you can remember what they’re called, I’ll make some, ok?”

“You would?” 

“Of course,” I said, heart breaking a bit at the disbelief in his tone. As if he couldn’t believe someone would do something nice for him. “It’s Christmas - you’re family.”

…

“You know, I’ve never been here before,” I said, staring up at the giant tree at Rockefeller Centre.

“Really?” Bucky was wedged next to me by the crowd. 

“Moved here February - no chance,” I said, then almost collapsed into Bucky as someone shoved past. 

Bucky caught me _\- of course he did -_ with an arm around my waist and a glare at the person who’d elbowed me. 

“Are you ok?” he asked, not letting go of my waist. 

“Yeah,” I said, heart pounding from the shock. I’d been certain I was going to go ass over elbow, and that, in a crowd this dense, was seriously bad news. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” I looked up to find him smiling down at me. I swallowed hard. 

“My hero.” With a force of will, I returned my attention to the tree. Bucky still hadn’t let go of me. 

Nor did he, until we were clear of the crush of people and on the street once more. 

“Oh, look - mulled wine - I’m gonna grab some.” I wound my way through the crowd, almost not caring whether Bucky was following or not. It certainly hadn’t been good for my blood pressure, to have him pressed against my side like that. 

_Although that’s one way to not get cold,_ I thought semi-hysterically. 

“Two cups of mulled wine, please,” I said, when I reached the food cart. 

“Sure thing,” the guy behind the counter said. I reached into my coat for my wallet, then felt someone come up beside me.

“Don’t even think about it,” Bucky said. “My treat.”

“But…” I began, then saw no give in his expression. “Ok. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” The guy behind the counter was watching us with a grin, as if he was in on a secret. 

“Here ya go,” he said, passing over the styrofoam cups. 

We didn’t start drinking until we were someplace less crowded, watching the tourists stream by, the city lit up as the dark descended. 

“To simple pleasures,” I said, raising my glass. 

“To real Christmas,” Bucky said, touching his cup to mine as he searched for my gaze. I raised my cup to my lips and drank, still staring into his eyes. 

…

“Not going home for Christmas?” Steve asked a few days later, as I turned up for work with another box of cookies. 

“Nah.” I shook my head, and I did my best to be blasé about the whole thing. “Parents died a few years back. My sister’s got family out west, but I tried that last year - it’s just awkward.”

Steve patted me on the shoulder. “Maybe you should come over - I think we’re doing breakfast Christmas morning.”

“Oh, I couldn’t intrude,” I said, peeling off into the kitchen. 

“You should,” Steve said, following me. I started unpacking. “Oh, are there more of the chocolate ones?”

I handed them over. “Here,” I said. “A whole batch, just for you.”

“You’re the best.”

I took out a box within a box, and took a deep breath before pulling it out and setting it on the counter. 

“Bucky around?” I asked. I’d wanted to wait for him to unpack the box. But maybe I should see whether or not it had made the journey all right.

“Bucky’s here,” the man himself said. “And Steve - are those more cookies? I swear to God, if you eat more of those you’re gonna turn into a cookie.”

“But they’re good!” Steve protested through a mouthful. Bucky went to hit him upside the head, but Steve dodged out of the way, still holding the box of cookies.

“You wanted me?” Bucky said, then ducked his head as I blushed, both of us realising what he’d said at the same time. “I mean-“

“I know what you meant,” I assured him. “I wanted to show you something.” With a deep breath, I opened the box. 

There stood a Pandoro, thankfully not crushed by the trip, the powdered sugar still in stark contrast to the dark brown cake. 

“Oh my god,” Bucky breathed. “Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas,” I said, moving to the side so he could take a better look. Sure, the recipe had taken some searching for, and it had taken some serious Google Fu to find a real Pandoro tin. But other than that - it had been fun. And, judging solely by Bucky’s expression, totally worth it. 

“Is that?” Steve asked, voice similarly hushed. 

Bucky nodded convulsively. “Like Ma used to make.”

“Go on then, see if it tastes good,” Steve urged. Bucky just stared at the cake. And kept staring. And staring.

I put a hand on his shoulder, getting worried he’d zoned out. “Bucky?”

He turned his head, and then I had an armful of super soldier. 

“Thank you,” he breathed in my ear, arms almost crushing me to him in a hug. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” I said. “Really.” And 

…

“Um… hello?” 

It was Christmas morning, and I was at Avengers Tower. Under protest.

Well, sort of. 

Steve had mentioned that I wasn't going home over Christmas. In front of the rest of the team. And then Stark had invited me over. And Bucky had looked at me with the puppy dog eyes - and where had he learned to do that, anyway? And I'd accepted the invitation with as much good grace as I could muster. 

So that's why I was at Avengers Tower. At 8am on Christmas morning, in my ugliest Christmas sweater, one last set of Christmas baking in my bag. 

I stepped into the common area and gasped. 

The entire place had been decked out. Christmas lights everywhere, a tree in the corner, fully decorated with presents underneath, a wreath on the wall. I felt my eyes fill with unexpected tears as a lump formed in my throat. 

"Merry Christmas," someone said behind me, and I spun to find Bucky, in a ridiculous green sweater with the Hulk as Santa on it, standing in the doorway. 

"Merry Christmas," I said, then I grinned. "I like your sweater."

Bucky grinned back, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "Stark had 'em made."

"How pissed was Bruce?" I asked, leaning into him. It was Christmas. I could forget about my promise. For a day.

"Actually not," Bucky mused. "I think Christmas is getting to him." 

I chuckled. "Well, 'tis the season." The bag I was carrying clinked. 

"More cookies?" Bucky asked with a grin.

"Maybe." I pulled the bag to my front. "Wanna grab plates from the kitchen for me?"

"Sure." And he bent his head towards me, and I was certain he was going to do something crazy, like press a kiss to my forehead or something, but he must have thought better of it, because he pulled away abruptly, removing his arm from my shoulder and going to the kitchen. 

"Morning," a very sleepy Natasha said, clad in a red sweater with Loki as Rudolph on it on top of her pyjamas. 

"Morning," I said. "Merry Christmas."

"M'rry Christmas," she replied. "Coffee?" I passed her a cookie. 

"Try this - it's got espresso in." I finished piling the cookies on the coffee table and stood. "I'll make real coffee." I'd had some already on my way to the Tower, but I could stand another cup, and the rest of the Avengers were just as caffeine dependent as I was.

I was in the doorway to the kitchen when I heard Steve speaking. 

"You know, if you never tell her, there's never a chance for anything more," he was saying to Bucky. 

"But if I say something, I could screw everything up," Bucky argued back. "I don't wanna lose her as a friend - it's enough of a miracle that she wants to spend time with a killer like me at all." 

I deliberately made noise as I entered the kitchen. 

"Got those plates?" I asked Bucky lightly. "Morning, Steve - merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Steve said, giving me a quick hug. "Bucky said you had more cookies?"

"Incorrigible, that's what you are," I said, taking the plates out of Bucky's hand and putting them in Steve's. "Take those into the common room - they're in there." I waited until Steve was out of the room. "And whoever she is," I said to Bucky, "she'd be lucky to have you. The Winter Soldier's who you used to be. You're not him anymore."

Sure, my heart was sinking at the thought of Bucky loving someone else. But he should be happy. And it was Christmas, so I busied myself setting up the industrial-sized coffee machine. 

I really had thought Bucky would have disappeared with Steve into the common room, so when he spoke as I was measuring coffee, I jumped. 

"You think so?" he asked, and ground coffee went spilling onto the floor. 

"Shit." I started again, measuring out the coffee before starting to grab the cleaning supplies from under the sink. 

"Sorry." 

"'S okay," I said. "You just startled me, is all." I grabbed the dustpan and brush and crouched, beginning to sweep up the escaped coffee grounds. "And yes. To answer your question. I meant what I said. All of it." I felt my heart sink once again, and knew I wasn't in control of my expression, so I did my best to keep my head down as I swept. 

Then a pair of hands took the dustpan and brush away from me. I looked up to find Bucky kneeling on the floor in front of me. 

"How much of that conversation did you hear, anyway?" he asked. 

"Just the last little bit," I said. "Really, though, Barnes. I thought we were past this - you're an amazing guy, and no one insults you in my hearing. Not even yo-oh!" 

Bucky had leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to my lips. I just stared at him, trying to process what had just happened. 

"Did you just-" I tried. 

"If you don't feel the same, that's - I mean, I don't expect anything," Bucky started. "I just… Steve said I should tell you how I feel, and I just-" he grabbed one of my hands. "Y/N, you're one of the most important people in my life. You're my best friend, and I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you." 

_What?_

"It doesn't have to change anything," Bucky went on. "I mean, you deserve someone who has their shit together, someone who wasn't a POW, who doesn't go getting shot at every week-" It was my turn to lean forward and shut him up with a kiss.

But this time, I lingered - my free hand had found its way to his shoulder for balance, and I stayed where I was, still feeling the phantom press of his lips on mine. The promise I'd made to myself lay in ashes at my feet, and I was so very far from complaining.

"I love you too, idiot," I breathed, and then Bucky's lips were back on mine, kissing me more firmly, his arms around my middle, pulling me into him. My hands wound into his hair, and he moaned into my mouth, trying to get even closer to me. 

"Pepper! Avert your eyes!" Tony shouted, and we pulled apart. I looked up to find Tony wearing a shit-eating grin. "Merry Christmas, you two. If you're done defiling my kitchen, we were gonna open presents."

I glanced at Bucky, who was actually blushing. 

"We'll be there in a minute, Stark," he said eventually. "Now get lost."

Tony raised his hands in surrender. "Whatever you say, Cyberman - just know that Barton just woke up, and he's not happy without his coffee." 

With that, Stark vanished. 

"Well," I said, as soon as he was gone. 

"Well," Bucky said. "I'm kinda tempted to just skip presents and keep you all to myself. But I figure Steve might get annoyed."

Something warm and fuzzy started just below my breastbone. "How about we do both," I suggested, clambering to my feet and extending my hands to Bucky. "We go say hi to the others, but you keep me to yourself anyway. I wouldn't complain."

Bucky took my hands and stood, pulling me into him as he buried his face in my hair. "You're killing me, doll."

"Now, would I do that?" I teased, pulling away so I could start filling coffee mugs. I couldn't quite believe it - Bucky loved me, and I was standing in the Avengers kitchen, making coffee. 

"Yes," he said, stepping up behind me and pressing a kiss to my temple. "You would. But I love you anyway." 

I turned to face him, coffee forgotten as I stared into his face, bringing a hand up to cup his jaw. 

"And I love you," I murmured.

Coffee would just have to wait. I could handle Barton. 

**Author's Note:**

> So I like this prompting thing.... 
> 
> If anyone wants to send me a character they'd like me to oneshot next, or a prompt, I'll happily write it!


End file.
